The Long Walk
by smidget
Summary: Painstakingly he recounted what he had seen in the Pensieve and what had happened in the forest, and they had not even begun to express their shock and amazement, when at last they arrived at the place to which they had been walking, though none of them had mentioned their destination. - A brief piece of that conversation. Post-battle Deathly Hallows.


_Painstakingly he recounted what he had seen in the Pensieve and what had happened in the forest, and they had not even begun to express their shock and amazement, when at last they arrived at the place to which they had been walking, though none of them had mentioned their destination. – Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_

**The Long Walk**

What Harry had not expected – though perhaps he should have – was all the shouting. He was thoroughly exhausted and aching and Ron and Hermione did not look to be doing much better, but somehow they still found the energy to be cross with him. The three of them had been walking somewhat aimlessly through the castle for a good ten minutes now and, although he had now tried a few times, Harry could still not find the right words to explain the events of the past few hours.

"We looked around and you were _gone_," Hermione said somewhat accusingly, arms crossed tightly across her chest as she walked. "We thought at first you had gone straight for the forest until we remembered you had Snape's memories to view."

Harry nodded, remembering how hurriedly he had fled away the Great Hall. He clenched his jaw and tried not to remember how the floor of the Hall had looked with rows of bodies lining it, mourning families collapsed around their loved ones, the odd combination of hushed voices and loud sobbing_._ Harry shuddered slightly. With an effort, he returned himself to the present.

Next to him Ron was looking glassy-eyed and stoic and Harry was sure his friend was recounting a similar scene. Hermione was still speaking. "I thought you'd come find us after you'd seen what Snape wanted to show you but…." Here Hermione trailed off and looked at him expectantly. "Harry, why didn't you come back? We would have helped you."

Harry was at something of a loss as to how to explain everything though. He had no qualms about telling the two of them everything – he _wanted_ to, it felt right – but where should he start? Given the choice to go find Ron and Hermione would he have done so? Or would he still have gone to meet Voldemort?

"I'm not – I don't know what I would have done," Harry said honestly, not having truly considered this. By the time he had finished viewing Snape's memories the allotted hour in which he had to decide his fate had almost elapsed. And at that point, having learned what he had, there really was no choice. But Ron and Hermione didn't know that. He shoved his hands into his pockets and opened his mouth to start again but didn't get the chance.

"What you _would_ have done?" Ron burst out, speaking for the first time in a few minutes. His cheeks and ears were rapidly turning red. "Harry, what you _did_ was walk off into that forest – without saying anything to us by the way – and almost got yourself killed."

"I told you before," he said with an irritated sigh. "I had to –"

"But _why_?" Hermione interjected desperately.

"_Because he's Harry_!" Ron shouted, throwing his arms into the air. "Harry-fucking-Potter –"

"_Ron_ –"

"– running off into danger without any thought for the people who fucking care about him. Because he has some sort of martyr complex or some shit like that. You said it yourself, Hermione – a _saving people thing_ –"

"Shut it," Harry snapped but it was Hermione reaching around behind Harry to briefly lay a hand on Ron's arm that finally stopped his tirade. His entire face was now as red as his thoroughly disheveled hair, his freckles standing out on his pale face like ink splotches on parchment.

Hermione took a far more gentle approach.

"Why didn't you tell us, Harry? We would have gone with you," she practically whispered.

Harry grimaced and shook his head. "You wouldn't have let me go at all."

"Well maybe you shouldn't have gone at all," Ron grumbled, hands now shoved in his pockets as though to refrain from coming to physical blows. Harry frowned.

He had not expected his friends to take his march into the forest so badly, but then again, at the time, he had not imagined having to explain it to them at all. Perhaps a few good punches would clear the air and they could all move on, but he suspected Hermione would highly disapprove. Not to mention the three of them were barely still standing as it was. He took a deep breath before continuing.

"You're not listening," he started as calmly as possible, holding up his hands in surrender as they turned a corner. "If you'd just let me explain. In the memories I found out –"

"In Snape's memories?" Ron asked, sounding ill at the thought of it.

"Yeah…"

"Harry, Snape was a Death Eater, of course he wanted –"

"Weren't you listening _at all_? Snape was on our side."

"All I heard was that he had a creepy infatuation with your mother."

"He loved her."

"And she didn't love him. He was a sore loser. Snape _hated_ you, Harry."

"He also saved my life. More than once."

"By sending you off into that forest to die? Oh, _brilliant_ job."

Harry felt his frustration hit a peak and he clenched his fists. "I had to go because of the horcrux," he said very quickly before he could be interrupted. He had not meant to blurt it out so suddenly and the shocked and horrified expressions on his friends' faces made him cringe, but at least for a moment no one was hurling accusations at him. They walked in uncomfortable silence for a moment, passing quickly by Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and rounding another corner.

"Because of _which_ horcrux," Hermione finally said, eyes narrowed. Harry could see in her expression that she had already guessed it but wanted him to say it aloud, to confirm it.

"The one that – well it was – _me_," he finished awkwardly, staring straight ahead. From the corner of his eye he could see Ron was still gaping at him, speechless.

Hermione stopped walking, put her hands over her face and shook her head, her bushy mess of hair bouncing out in all directions. Harry and Ron, who still looked dumbfounded, stopped as well. Eventually Ron recovered enough to say, "What are you talking about? _You _were a horcrux? Impossible."

Harry shrugged and gestured feebly at the scar on his forehead. "Since that first night he tried to kill me. He didn't know. But that's why I could see into his head, why I could feel what he was feeling, why I could speak Parseltongue…."

As he said this a sudden thought occurred to Harry, a memory of a conversation he'd had years ago –

"_You can speak Parseltongue, Harry, because Lord Voldemort – who is the last remaining heir of Salazar Slytherin – can speak Parseltongue. Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure…"_

"_Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?"_

"_It certainly seems so."_

"Dumbledore practically told me," he whispered. He looked around the empty corridor as if expecting the aforementioned wizard to come strolling around the corner. How had he never made the connection? It had been right in front of him this entire time.

"Snape's memories explained everything," he said at his friends' blank looks. "About me having a piece of Voldemort's soul in me, about how…," he trailed off. As usual, Hermione caught on extremely quickly and saved him the job of saying it aloud.

"About how you had to die," she said dully, her expression so raw and painful that Harry almost stepped away from her. Now Ron placed a hand on her shoulder and Harry could tell that the gesture was equally effective the other way around.

Ron looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione, and appeared to have overcome his shock. "But you didn't die," he said, as if the other two were missing something obvious. "You're right here."

"But _that's_ why I went into the forest," Harry insisted. "I really didn't have a choice. I wasn't trying to be noble."

Hermione's face crumpled for a moment. "Oh, _Harry_."

"But you _didn't die_," Ron repeated, more loudly this time. "Are you still…." He made a face and stared at Harry as if he would be able to see visible signs of Voldemort's soul still lurking in his best friend.

Harry shook his head. "Gone," he said simply.

"And you're, you know, _sure_?"

"Positive."

Ron visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping. Hermione, however, continued to look troubled. "But how?" she asked skeptically. "If Voldemort didn't – didn't kill you, then how is the horcrux gone? And how" – she was now looking more suspicious with every word – "how did you convince Voldemort that you were dead?"

Harry swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and turned to look out a large window to his left. The sun was now fully up and the lake was visible. The grounds were practically glowing in the morning light. Even after all the destruction of the night before it all still looked beautiful. A new day. A day that, a few hours ago, he had not expected to see.

"Harry?"

Shaking himself Harry tuned back to his friends and rubbed absently at the back of his neck. "Well, like I said, I went into the forest to let him kill me. Didn't fight back. Avada Kedavra, right here." He gestured to his chest, which he now noticed was particularly painful.

Ron and Hermione's shocked expressions were practically identical and Harry almost laughed but could not quite muster the energy. When neither of them spoke he tried to explain further, but it was difficult as he was not entirely sure he understood what had happened.

"I don't _think_ I died. Well, maybe I did for a little bit. Dumbledore tried to explain it, something about Voldemort using my blood the night he came back. I had a choice, to come back or go on. And then when I woke up there was some sort of commotion – something had happened to Voldemort – and he had Narcissa Malfoy check to see if I was dead. She asked me if Draco was still alive in the castle. I told her that he was and she lied and said that I was dead and so I just, you know, faked it."

There was a brief silence after this and Harry mussed the back of his hair awkwardly. Ron and Hermione stared at him for a moment, then looked at each other, and then Harry was suddenly bombarded with a flurry of questions.

"You don't _think _you died?"

"Dumbledore? You spoke to _Dumbledore_?"

"Narcissa Malfoy –"

"What do you mean you spoke to Dumbledore –"

"You died _for a little bit_ –"

"What happened to Voldemort –"

"_Malfoy's_ mother lied for you –"

"Okay, stop!" Harry cried, holding his hands up. The other two went silent at once. Hermione bit her lip and Harry knew that she was formulating questions and theories faster than he could possibly answer them.

Ron was looking at him with a very strange expression. "You had a choice?"

"I – yeah. Because –"

"You died and then came back," Ron said dully, almost as though he was speaking to himself. He turned to look out the same window Harry had and went silent. Harry thought of Fred, and of the Resurrection Stone, and stayed silent.

Ron leaned against nearest wall and for a moment it looked as though he was going to cry but instead he slid down and sat on the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his expression blank. Hermione was instantly next to him. Harry watched as she grabbed Ron's hand and held it.

"Sorry," Ron muttered. Hermione shook her head wildly and leaned in closer to him. Harry didn't know what to do. The silence seemed to stretch on, all three of them still and quiet. Harry looked at his shoes. There was blood smeared on them.

"Does it hurt, dying?" Ron asked suddenly.

Harry jumped slightly and then shook his head. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep." He almost smiled but then stopped himself. He had not told either of them about the Resurrection Stone. It felt somehow wrong to mention it, at least right now in the vulnerability of the moment. He wanted to keep moving.

"Look, what happened in the forest – it doesn't matter," Harry said. "The horcrux is gone and I'm still here."

He looked at the other two for a moment and started walking again before either Ron or Hermione could respond. They took a moment to catch up to him, even walking as slowly as he was, and he suspected that some sort of private moment between the two of them had just occurred.

The three of them walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, passing through parts of the castle in every state of disarray. Some corridors were barely recognizable while others were unchanged. It was a very surreal experience. For Harry, the entirety of Hogwarts looked different somehow.

This was supposed to have been his last year at Hogwarts, an experience now he was sure he would never have. Too much had happened, too many terrible things, and it was time, whether he wanted to or not, to leave that part of this life behind him. Now it was time to move on into the world - a daunting task he had never taken much time to consider. But with a glance at Ron and Hermione he smiled.

"Glad you're still here, mate," Ron said quietly as they climbed one of the wide, spiraling staircases. Hermione said nothing, but grasped Harry's hand briefly. He smiled at them both.

"Me too."


End file.
